The Story of Us
by past decembers
Summary: I've got it all figured out.  The morning sickness, the throwing up, the odd food combinations, the lack of caffeine – it can only mean one thing...Sonny's on menopause. ...Hell. / winner of Hollywood Here We Come's contest. Futurefic. Oneshot.


_The Story of Us_

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><p>There are those moments, when your entire world flips and turns upside down and inside out, making your entire life have a different meaning, taking everything with it and spinning it around into a whole new way.<p>

And for a single moment, everything is beautiful and right and amazing and just utterly _perfect._

_._

Sonny Munroe.

The most perfect, amazing, adorable, _cute,_beautiful, friendly, kind, _sunny_person in the world.

She was _perfection_–

-and she was _mine._

You see, Sonny and I – we used to be enemies.

_Frenemies,_I should say. We "hated" each other with a burning passion, in part, because of our casts.

But due to a slight, er,misunderstanding involving Sonny, Chloe, Mackenzie, the Falls, and me, I ended up asking Sonny out.

She said yes and, five and-a-something years later, we were still going strong.

Then, approximately a month and seven days after that (not that I was counting or anything), I got down on one knee and asked Sonny if she would be my wife.

Needless to say, she didn't seem to mind too much (I'm going on assumptions here – after all, the ring _is_on her finger) because, one and-a-something years later, we're still here – and, more importantly, still _together -_growing strong.

And she's still the most beautiful girl in the world.

Let me just say this in a nutshell:

Sonny Munroe was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

But lately, something's been amiss.

She's not so _sunny_anymore.

Actually – I take that back. She's still the most perfect, amazing, adorable, cute, _sunny_–

-she's been acting sick.

Throwing up in the mornings; eating strange food combinations – steak, ice cream, and peas – though not necessarily in that order - avoiding coffee and/or anything with caffeine; absentmindedly rubbing her stomach and glancing at me with a worried expression – she'd have an anxiety wrinkle if her face wasn't so perfect.

Those little things – I feel as if I ought to know what they're adding up to – I just can't put the pieces together quite yet.

I know I'm being stupid, and I really should know what is going on – if my mommy were here, she'd smack me, she really would – but if you know what's wrong with Sonny (though nothing's ever really _wrong_with her), could you _please_tell me?

_Please?_

Because really, grasping at straws isn't something that comes naturally for me – both literally _and_figuratively – and I really don't like knowing things (a fact that quickly became apparent when I realized I had _three_sisters, not two – but that's a story for later).

But in all honesty, I have no idea what's wrong with my sunshine, and, let me tell you, I will stop at _nothing_to figure it out.

.

I've got it all figured out.

The morning sickness, the throwing up, the odd food combinations, the lack of caffeine – it can only mean one thing (and I've done my...research):

Sonny's on menopause.

Hell.

.

There's something awkward about sitting next to your wife on the couch, noting how beautiful she looks, and preparing to ask her about menopause at the same time.

But if she was really was, wouldn't that mean she would be PMS-ing? Or was that pre-menopause? Or...

Needless to say, I was hopeless.

I was preparing myself to raise the question when I noticed, for the first time, how distressed Sonny looked.

The anxiety wrinkle was back, along with the wringing-of-the-palms and the stroking-of-the-stomach.

It was always her feelings first, before mine.

So, being the loving, supporting husband that I am, I decided to ask if she was feeling okay.

"Baby?" I say, and I swear she flinches slightly at that little word, "are you okay?"

Wringing of the hands. Stroking of the stomach. Deep breath; a pause.

"Look, Chad, I have something to tell you..."

Regret.

Sonny was going to announce to me that she was on menopause, at the ripe age of 25 (is that even possible?), and that we were never going to..._er_...again, and we would never have a child...(if that was what menopause meant.)

Lovely.

Deep breath.

Hide tortured expression.

"It's...it's okay, Sonny, I already know."

I dared to look up from where I was examining the palms of my hands (I really do need to get myself some Vaseline).

Shock, crayoned over her face.

"You...what?"

Quite obviously, Sonny wanted to know _how_I had discovered her little...secret, and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her. (I did my research, okay?)

There was another pause, then she spoke.

"So, um, Chad – are you...okay with this?"

Was I _okay_with this?

I opened my mouth to give the loving, supporting husband answer, but instead, what came out was this:

"It's - _asdeefuijakchoo!_" -causing Sonny to look at me weirdly.

Seeing as the loving, supporting attempt didn't work, I decided to go with the honest-husband answer.

"It's – it's...it's horrible! You – you – "

Fear crossed Sonny's face. "Ch...Chad?"

I regretted the words as soon as they came out, but once they did, there was no stopping them.

"Sonny, this is terrible! You're...you're on _menopause_, and that means, based off my limited knowledge of the female anatomy – this is horrible – you're – you're - "

Sonny started making a funny noise, and in the midst of my desperate rant, I realized she was...

_...laughing._

"Chad...I _am_pregnant. We're gonna have a baby."

I threw my hands up in the air, exasperated.

"See, Sonny! This is _horrible_; we're never gonna have a b – " Then what she was saying processed in my mind, and I'm sorry to say that the first words that popped out of my mouth were:

"Shitthe what – baby oh hell – "

I mentally kicked myself for saying such a thing, immediately after my wife just told me she was –

_We were going to have a baby._

My eyes grew wide as I stood up.

I looked at Sonny, and, let me tell you, in all the years I'd known her, my wife had never looked so beautiful – and I've seen her in _plenty_of outfits – and may have possibly seen her _without_ an outfit, as which the aforementioned announcementmay have implied.

We were having a _baby._A b-a-b-y!

_I was going to be a father._

A _dad._

A _baby._With _Sonny._The love of my life.

A wave of emotion crashed over me, and for a second, I felt a little choked up.

I smothered Sonny in a hug.

"I'll bet her first word is going to be _daddy_," I proclaimed.

Sonny giggled, a beautiful sound that made my heart soar, as cliché as it may seem. "I was wondering where the ego went," she teased. Then, "Chad, we're not even sure of our baby's gender yet."

_Our_baby. That little word made it so much better.

_Our baby._

I scoffed. "Well, it better be a girl." So I can spoil her, buy her dresses, buy her ice cream, beat up anyone who dares break her heart...

She laughed, her soft, beautiful laugh. "CDC has proclaimed it, and therefore it must be so." she teased.

I kissed the top of her head. "You took the words right out of my mouth." And suddenly, she set her lips on mine and did just that, kissing me with such intensity, my knees nearly gave out.

She pulled away, her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "Literally," I managed when I got my breath back, referring to my earlier statement.

Sonny laughed, then her happy expression dropped. "Chad, if...I'm sorry if this is a bit _rushed,_or sudden, but – "

I placed my hand gently over her mouth. "No, Sonny. I...this is...this is the second-best thing that has ever happened to me." And I meant every word.

She smiled, relief loosening her features, followed by confusion. "_Second_best?" she wondered, "what was the best?"

I cupped her cheek with my palm. "Marrying you," I whispered. God, I was turning into a sap.

Pink flushed over her cheeks, and I laughed, wrapping my arms around her and spinning her in a circle.

"Ch-aad!" Sonny laughed. "Careful! The baby!"

My eyes widened and I set my wife down quickly. "God, I'm sorry! Did I hurt her? Holy shit, if I hurt her – "

I felt a light smack on the side of my head. "Chad, spinning me around isn't going to hurt her. And watch your language." Despite her scolding tone, I could hear the smile in her voice. "You're going to be such an overprotective father."

I ignored her statement, though I was dancing inside at the word _father._

_Father._

_Dad._

I was going to have a _child_.

I couldn't get over it.

And I didn't want to.

Just Sonny and I, and our baby. We could name her Allison. Allison Chastity Cooper.

...nah, that sounded tacky.

(If we named her Chastity, did that mean she couldn't have kids?)

My hand dropped from Sonny's arm to her waist as I thought, caught up and _in love_with the idea of our very own child...

I would need to build her a nursery...buy her dolls...teach her to talk...teach her to sing...teach her so many things...I would spoil her rotten.

A baby. A _baby._ With Sonny. The love of my life.

The love of my world.

In just nine short months, we would have a daughter.

A daughter. _Together._

If she needed me to, I would drop all the shows; all the movies; all the deals – in a heartbeat. I was going to be there for them. Because _they_ were my world.

Because I would be ready.

_I'll be ready._

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><p><em>AN: Behold, my entry for Hollywood Here We Come's "I'll Be Ready" contest!_

_I'm not particularly used to writing creatively on a deadline (a major setback if I ever decide to pursue a career involving writing), so I apologize if this was not...good. :P_

_Please review; it would mean a lot!_

_-Morgan x_


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